


Valborgsmässoafton

by MElizabethPenn



Category: Wallander - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Love at First Sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MElizabethPenn/pseuds/MElizabethPenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the evening of May Day, and Magnus and Maria are both making fools of themselves. But then we're all fools in love, aren't we?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valborgsmässoafton

**Author's Note:**

> A mixture of book!verse and UK!verse. Not set within any narrative from the series. A possible look at how Magnus and his wife Maria could have met. Originally posted on my Tumblr [here](http://margueritemars.tumblr.com/post/39110673516/).

Sunset has finally fallen. The fire has already been burning for hours, nestled in a little hollow not too close and not too far from the edge of the woods. The trees stretch endlessly on away to the west, the flames of the bonfire only chasing away the closest of the shadows, the gloom persisting in the depths of the forest. The trees echo back the raucous laughter of the revellers and the music being played by the handful of musicians situated on stumps beneath the shelter of the trees at the forest’s edge. An infectious drumbeat creates an underlying heartbeat to the festivities as the other instruments weave their magic. Amongst the musicians is a tall and slightly gangly man, his long nimble fingers coaxing a flurry of pure sweet notes from a tin whistle. The firelight glints faintly against his blond curls, the fire obscured partially by both distance and the crowd of people. He is playing his instrument mostly by memory anyway, so the lack of proper light doesn’t bother him much. Finally, the musicians take a break, and he goes to mingle in the crowd. And that’s when he sees her.

She feels just the slightest bit like a wild thing, as she roams through the throngs of people, barefoot, and clad only in a simple yellow shift. A wreath of white honeysuckle made for her by her youngest sister adorns her hair which she has let fly free. The heat of the fire and the bodies surrounding her has caused some of the strands to become plastered to her neck. With the hand not occupied with a plastic cup just barely filled with slightly warm sparkling wine, she twists her hair up off of her neck and holds it there for several moments, relishing the wash of cool air across her heated skin. She takes a generous drink, draining the remainder of her wine, letting the flavour and the carbonation wash over her tongue. She isn’t really drunk, just pleasantly loosened up. Normally she would be a bundle of nerves at a function with so many people, but the wine has allowed her to relax and just go with the flow. The beat of the drums resonates in her chest as she weaves her way through the people. The song reaches its end, and the pause in sound stretches on until it is apparent that the musicians have taken a much deserved break. She meanders around the outer edge of the crowd nearer to the musicians’ circle, to where someone has set up a place to throw away the used plates and cups. She tosses her empty cup away and then turns, nearly running into someone who has just come up on her left side.

A large warm hand gently grabs her bare upper arm to steady her, and she instinctively grasps the opposite shoulder of the man now standing in front of her. He is incredibly tall, and he is looking down at her with an apologetic and slightly nervous smile. Once he has ensured that she isn’t going to fall over, he lets go of her arm. She feels the loss of his hand keenly, her heart giving a strange little flutter. She smiles back almost without thinking, and his grin widens, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners.

“So sorry. I had come over here with the intention of asking you to dance, not to knock you over.” He gives a light chuckle. His voice is nice. It’s higher than she might have expected it to be, but smooth, and she can detect just a trace of a Götamål accent. “My name is Magnus, by the way.”

“My name is Maria. You know, I think I’ve seen you around here before. Do you live in Ystad?” Her head tilts a bit to the side as she tries to suss out where she knows him from. It’s possible that she’s just seen him around town. But she can’t for the life of her understand how she could forget a man like Magnus. Within moments of meeting him, all of her senses are on high alert. He gives another chuckle before answering, and a little shiver skates its way down her spine at the sound.

“Yes, I’m actually a detective with the Ystad Polis.”

That’s when the recognition hits her. She’s seen him every so often on the news alongside Inspector Wallander. “Oh yes. Yes, of course. I remember now…” The rest of her sentence is drowned out by the drums starting up again, setting the tempo for the musicians who have begun to assemble again. Magnus moves slightly closer, his fingers lightly brushing her upper arm and he leans down to speak in her ear, his breath ghosting against her skin and making her shiver.

“Would you care to dance? I’m sure the musicians can spare me.” His proximity is making her a little light headed, and his eyes are so startlingly blue this close up especially with the dark blue button up shirt he’s sporting with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She’s trying desperately not to ogle him, and knows she’s probably failing miserably. It’s all she can do to remind herself to nod as an answer to his question. The smile he gives her in reply is veritably blinding and he takes her hand, gently tugging her along behind him through the crowd.

There is already a circle formed of pairs of dancers that has begun making their rounds of the bonfire. Maria wishes she had thought to bring a hair tie with her, as the intense heat is making her hair stick to her neck and shoulders again. Suddenly the tempo of the drums picks up a bit, and Magnus pulls her against him and places his palm against the small of her back while his other hand retains its grip on hers. “Ready?” he murmurs in her ear. She nods, and he gives a brief boyish grin before he swings them into the dance just as the flute begins spilling its wild frenzy of notes into the night air.

Her heart is racing as they spin about the bonfire, the quick tempo of the music requiring them to be fleet-footed. She can scarcely keep track of where they are in relation to the fire, only catching glimpses of the pyramid of flames with its sparks rising into the air and extinguishing before raining down in grey flecks around the dancers. The crackle and pop of the wood burning only supplements the percussion of the music currently propelling them in another circuit of the fire. Her free hand is braced against his chest, and she can feel his heart racing beneath her palm. When she looks up into his face, she can see the gleam of exhilaration in his eyes as he grins down at her. His excitement is contagious and she finds herself tipping her head back and giving a carefree laugh. She can feel his answering laughter vibrating in his chest, and the sensation sends a thrill through her that makes her shudder despite the heat of the fire so close.

After what seems like both ages and no time at all, the song comes to an end, and the two of them slowly come to a stop, both panting from the exertion. Their laughter rings out again and somehow or another Magnus winds up gathering her in to his chest as she rests her forehead against him and tries to reign in her giggles. She finally pulls herself together just as the next song begins. The glance he gives her asks a silent question that she answers with an ecstatic nod, and he swings them back into the dance. They continue this process for as long as the music lasts, until most of the revellers have either wandered off or gone home.

In the morning, as the beginnings of the dawn lighten the sky to grey, Magnus wakes with a crick in his neck, a root against his back, and a comfortable weight pressing against his torso and hips. He lifts his head a bit and looks down to see Maria laid out on top of him, her head pillowed against his shoulder and her hands fisted in his shirt. He can’t contain his smile as the memories of the previous night flood back. Then he lays his head back again, content to doze until the risen sun fully wakes them both.


End file.
